


Canapes

by missberryisbest



Series: ~Fluff for Maf~ [4]
Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Only One Bed, fluffy fluff fluff, slight angst but we good we good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 01:39:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18650311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missberryisbest/pseuds/missberryisbest
Summary: “Uh, it is okay mom” Q squeaked out “We can bring our bags to our rooms just fine. Just, um, just tell me which one you had set up for El. The blue room? The one with the weird sad art on the walls?”Monica arched an eyebrow “Why Quentin, don’t be silly. I didn’t set up a seperate room for your boyfriend. Rebecca has made me a more modern woman. And I can accept that my son and his boyfriend would just shack up together once the lights were out anyways. So I cut out the middleman, and just got your room ready.”Eliot started to laugh but did his best to turn it into a cough. “Very kind of you, Monica.” He managed to get out. “I appreciate your understanding of our sleeping habits. I would be loathe to spend a weekend, nay, even one night away from my man. Well, Q,” he said, looking back with a definite sparkle in his eye “why don’t you show me the way to our bedroom so we can drop off our bags and not keep these beautiful women waiting on lunch.”





	Canapes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kickassfu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickassfu/gifts).



“Uh, it is okay mom” Q squeaked out “We can bring our bags to  _ our rooms _ just fine. Just, um, just tell me which one you had set up for El. The blue room? The one with the weird sad art on the walls?”

Monica arched an eyebrow “Why Quentin, don’t be silly. I didn’t set up a seperate room for your boyfriend. Rebecca has made me a more modern woman. And I can accept that my son and his boyfriend would just shack up together once the lights were out anyways. So I cut out the middleman, and just got your room ready.”

Eliot started to laugh but did his best to turn it into a cough. “Very kind of you, Monica.” He managed to get out. “I appreciate your understanding of our sleeping habits. I would be loathe to spend a weekend, nay, even  _ one night _ away from my man. Well, Q,” he said, looking back with a definite sparkle in his eye “why don’t you show me the way to _ our bedroom  _ so we can drop off our bags and not keep these beautiful women waiting on lunch.”

Quentin knew he was trapped. He may have been flushed from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes, but he straightened his shoulders and led the way to the room Monica had set up for him a year or so back when she was on one of her make-space-for-Quentin kicks.

Monica, glad that everything was settled, left them to their own devices muttering about Rebecca and the delicate structure of the canapes. 

\--

Q got them into the room and managed to shut the door before the giggles Eliot had been keeping in bubbled over. “You didn’t tell me what a  _ modern woman  _ your mother was, Q” Eliot said, setting down his bag and reaching in to grab out the things that absolutely must be hung up. 

Even Quentin cracked a smile at that. “Well, until today I didn’t know myself just how modern she was. Or how goddamn clingy she thinks me and my boyfriend are, jeez. She apparently thinks I can’t keep it in my pants for two damn nights.”

“Well, I promise not to hog the covers” Eliot teased, before unpacking Quentin’s suitcase as well, knowing there was no way Q would do it. 

Q paused, swallowing hard, and looked at the bed. So simple, a queen-size mattress covered with expensive sheets. Stilling, he considered the fact that this would be the first time he was sharing it with someone. Until rght now he hadn’t realized that a mattress that big could seem so… small. 

\--

Lunch went great, but by the time it was over Quentin was starting to worry that he was, in fact, going to lose their bet. He was absolutely certain that he had seen Monica smile. Twice. And the second time Eliot looked over at him with a smug expression, and Quentin knew that he was basically already popping the corn for their movie night in his mind.

“So, Eliot” Monica said. “Tell me about yourself.”

_ And the inquisition starts,  _ Quentin thought, cringing.

“What do you want to know?” El asked, casually, and if Q hadn’t been sitting right next to him he would have had no idea how physically tense the question actually made Eliot.

“Well, what are you doing with your life, for starters.” She replied.

El laughed “Well, right now I’m busy working on my thesis. After that I think I am planning to settle down in the city. I want to work with at-risk homeless kids. It’s kinda always been my dream.” He finished, looking down at his plate.

Q cocked his head to the side, wondering how much of this was true. If all of it was, why had Eliot never told him before?

Monica nodded, once. “I like it. You should talk to Quentin, try to get his head out of the clouds. He seems to not really be thinking beyond today. I want him to have goals. Get his mind off of those damn children’s books and into reality.”

Q slouched down in his seat at that, and El saw him kind of fold up into himself.

Eliot’s gaze hardened a bit, and Q reached over and laid his hand over El’s, trying to calm him. “Quentin sees the best in everyone, I like to return that favor, you know?” El said, “See the best in him, see his potential. I’m sure he will go far.” He smiled, but it seemed a bit colder than it did earlier. “After all, he has had you in his life showing him just how far one can go.”

This time it was Monica who reddened, remembering how she had basically up and left Q to fend for himself for most of his childhood.

Quentin grinned into his glass, happy despite himself. He hadn’t realized Eliot had paid attention the night he drunkenly cried about his mom fucking off and leaving him with his dad. Eliot was pretty high himself, but apparently he had listened, he just hadn’t brought it up again. Until he could use it to decimate Q’s mother. 

_ Eliot definitely just pulled a Margo,  _ Q decided. 

\--

Monica did back off then, and the rest of the afternoon passed without incident. Eliot insisted that he and Quentin cook dinner, so they left Monica and Rebecca to their bridge club and spent their afternoon at the farmer’s market selecting produce.

Well, Eliot was selecting produce. Quentin was following him holding a lot of bags and listening to El mutter about _ showing that bitch what a goddamn canape should taste like _ .

“It really is okay, El” Q said at last, as Eliot was examining the fresh rosemary and basil, deciding on what their appetizer was going to be. “She doesn’t mean anything by it, she just wants good things for me.”

“Listen, Q,” El retorted, angrily swapping out shallots for tomatoes. “I know parents. I know that she just showed me a drop of water compared to the ocean of fucking bullshit she has put you through.”

He turned to face the smaller man, dropping a tomato in his haste and grabbing Q’s shoulder.

“You listen, and you listen good,” Eliot said, staring Quentin in the eyes “live amongst the goddamn clouds. I know that you know reality, shit, probably better than anyone else. So if you can know how shitty this world is and still  _ hope _ , still see beauty, then I will fucking end anyone who tries to take that away from you.”

Q teared up a bit, but then ducked his head away, busily fussing with the various bags he was holding. “Sure, El” he said, softly. “Whatever you say.”

\--

Dinner was way better than lunch could ever have hoped to be. 

“Damn straight” Eliot growled, when Quentin said as much. 

Of course, when Monica and Rebecca complimented him El just smiled and nodded and said how essential Q was in the kitchen, leaning over and planting a kiss on Quentin’s cheek.


End file.
